After lunch today, as I was in the elevator heading to the top floor of my office building, a woman whom I don’t know asked me if I could give her directions as to where she could find an office on campus.  When I finished providing the directions, she smiled at me and said –

“When are you due?”

I thought she was asking when something was due.  Like an application for admission to the University.  Or maybe a scholarship application?

“I’m sorry, when is what due?” I said, totally oblivious.

“When is your due date?” she said, looking at my stomach.

– — –

We now pause for things I wish I had said at this point in the story:

1. “Actually, I had her six years ago.”

2. “Tomorrow.”

3. “Not for another seven months, but it’s twins!”

4. “Not for another seven months, but it’s conjoined twins!”

5. “No, are you?”

– — –

We now return to our story.  I said “Well, I’m not pregnant.”  She looked confused, pointed to my stomach and said “Oh!  I’m sorry.  Your shirt just makes you look like you are!”

Would anyone like a navy blue empire waist shirt because I suddenly have one available and will happily mail it to you this very day, the eighth of March in the year of our Lord, two thousand and ten.